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Hard limits for sub gibson: no permanent scarring, no sexual contact with anyone other than Mistress Samantha, his brother and sister-in-law cannot be present at the Ranch during the scene, he cannot be captured at work.
Captured? Holy fuck. Sam’s tongue pressed to the back of her teeth. This was what they’d talked about. This was the force scene. She scanned downward, looking for the exception mentioned in the list.
Safe word exception: Sub wants no safe word before the exposure part of the scene. He will be forced into submission in front of others at the Ranch no matter the protests. Unless he is physically at risk or injured, no dungeon monitor will step in.
Blood rushed through Sam’s ears. No safe word. Gibson wanted her to out him and gave himself no recourse to push the emergency button. The trust that involved floored her, turned her on, and scared the hell out of her. What if he freaked out? What if it really hit a point where he changed his mind and she forced him and put him through some kind of psychological meltdown?
God. It was a lot of responsibility.
Sub’s schedule is attached. He is ready whenever Mistress is ready. Sub has approved of friends Pike Ryland and Ian Foster to assist Mistress with his capture. Phone numbers are included in the attachment.
Wow. Gibson had told two of his best friends not just that he was submissive but that he was going to act out a capture fantasy with her. More than anything else, that made tears well in her eyes. He was doi
ng it. Being the brave badass she knew him to be. Yes, he was asking her to force him, but he’d already made a choice. The man who hadn’t wanted anyone to know had told his friends about himself, about her. And not just told them but trusted them enough to let them see him at his most vulnerable.
She pressed the pages to her chest and breathed that in, let it really hit her what all of this meant. This could still go wrong. He could always back out. He could freak out and hate it. He could resent her afterward. But deep down in her gut she knew if she could get this right, it could go so very well. He trusted her.
Now she needed to trust herself that she was tough enough to pull it off. To be what he needed. To be what she knew herself to be.
She turned to the last page and recognized the neat print of Gibson’s no-nonsense handwriting.
Sam,
I miss you. Have missed you since I walked out your door. I never feel more alive than when I’m with you. I’m tired of living in the dark and want to step into the light with you. You are the smartest, sexiest, and strongest woman I’ve ever met. You should never be anyone’s secret and you will no longer be mine. I want to earn the right to be the lucky son of a bitch who gets to kneel at your feet and love you. I don’t care what other people think anymore. I care what you think. That’s all that matters. I want you. I need you. I’m lost without you, woman.
Now, will you kidnap me and make me pay for being such a dumbass? I would be much obliged.
Yours,
Gib
Sam laughed even as the tears streamed down her face and this bone-deep rightness moved through her. She ran her fingers over the page, feeling the indentations his pen had left.
The door to the office swung open, startling Sam, and Angie skidded to a halt. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were in here. Wait, are you okay?”
Sam wiped her face and grabbed a tissue out of the box on the desk for her nose. “I’m good.”
Angie tilted her head, eyebrow lifting. “You sure? Looking kind of rough, there, boss.” She glanced at the papers in Sam’s hand. “It’s not a Dear John letter, is it?”
Sam grinned. “Not even close.”
It’s a Dear Mistress.
And it was time to reply.
Chapter 13
Gibson had stared at the clock on his bedside table until it’d clicked over to midnight. It’d been a week since he’d sent the letter to Sam. All he’d gotten from her was a text. You’ve given me a lot to think about. He hadn’t heard a word since.
He’d been on edge all week, wondering if she’d show up at any second, wondering if she was around the next corner. Somehow that had been equal parts terrifying and painfully arousing. He’d gone out to dinner with Pike one night, and he’d barely been able to hold a conversation because he’d been wondering, Is tonight the night? Was Pike there to help Sam take him down?
Pike, of course, had pretended he was completely oblivious to Gibson’s jumpiness, but had given him a wry smile every now and then like he was up to something. Fucking Pike. He’d never tease Gibson about being submissive. The guy had figured him out a long time ago anyway. But he sure wasn’t above messing with Gibson’s head.
But nothing had happened that night. And nothing had happened since. The schedule he’d given Sam had ended tonight. Time was up. Week expired. She’d changed her mind. Maybe he’d been asking too much. Maybe she wanted a guy who wouldn’t need to be forced into it. Or maybe she didn’t think he could handle it.
Frankly, he still wasn’t sure he could handle it. Force could be a turn-on for him in theory, but that wasn’t what this was about. He knew he needed that element to have a shot at this. He wished he were in a mental place where he could walk into the common room at the Ranch with Sam’s collar around his neck, proud as you please. He wanted it down to his marrow. But when he thought about actually taking the steps to do it, the anxiety gripped him like cold, knotted fingers squeezing his heart. Like when he was a kid and tried to jump off the high board at the community pool. He wanted it. Could picture it. Could see himself plummeting through the air. But every time he got up there, he couldn’t take that last step and leap.
Finally, in an asshole-big-brother moment, Kade had shoved him off. Gibson had screamed loud enough to draw the attention of everyone by the pool, including a girl he’d had a crush on, and had hit the water with the grace of a rhinoceros.
